On the Outside Looking In
by MidniteMarauder
Summary: Amidst secrets and deceptions, James discovers he has a few 'furry little problems' of his own. Remus/Sirius


**Author's Notes:** This story was written for Round Two of the 2008 RS Games (Team MWPP) on Livejournal:

**Prompt: ** Virgo: Overzealous emotions only get in the way of efficiency at a time when there's a need for objective analysis. Keep a cool head and you will succeed in penetrating a cloud of obfuscation that is causing something simple to seem complicated.  
**Genre(s): ** Romance/(Fluff); Angst/Drama (and a bit of humour, too!)

Thanks to my betas, inksheddings, reddwarfer and mindabbles!

* * *

**I. Fifth Year**

James wasn't sure when it was exactly that he began to notice the change. The notion had subtly wormed its way into his consciousness, initially manifesting itself in half-remembered dreams that he brushed aside like cobwebs. By the time he'd finish his morning piss, it too had swirled anticlockwise and vanished into the depths, replaced with more important and pressing matters, like how they were going to get their hands on six ounces of Indonesian Floating Figgywart for the Immutable Potion, or putting together Plan Number Seventy-nine for pulling Evans since Plan Numbers One through Seventy-eight, which had all seemed infallible at the time of conception, had consistently proved otherwise in rather spectacular fashion.

Granted, all seventy-eight had included hexing Snivellus in some manner or other, but really, he was an evil, humourless git, and he could not fathom why Evans insisted on hanging about with him. All right, so he was somewhat clever, though James was loath to attribute the bastard with any redeeming qualities, but he cherished, nay—worshipped the dark arts and actually took pleasure in using the nastiest, most foul hexes and curses. James knew he and Sirius were arrogant bastards in their own right, but they had _some_ morals, and they never sought to draw blood. Well, not intentionally. And the crowd he hung around with…

Professor Binns was droning on yet again about another bloody Goblin Rebellion. After nearly five years of Urglot the Shrewd, Ugmot the Thrifty—or was it Ulfrin the Calculating this time?—who drove back the hordes at Great Snoring, he idly wondered how they ever managed the time and inclination to found Gringotts since they were always so busy rebelling all the time, but shook away the thought and concentrated once again on the problem at hand.

To his left, Peter's head was thrown back against the desk behind him and he was snoring lightly, garnering the usual distasteful looks from Althea Bainbridge who was not at all pleased to have his head decorating her desk. Remus, who sat two seats to his right, was occasionally jotting down a line or two of notes, from what he could see, but his zeal for copious notetaking was certainly not up to its usual standard. Truthfully, none of them particularly cared about passing the History O.W.L., except in the abstract that any type of failure was not an option and would simply look bad in contrast with the other nine Os on his record. At least, that was what James had told himself, choosing to categorize the shortcomings of Plans One through Seventy-eight as mere hurdles on the road to success.

He turned his attention to Sirius on his immediate right who was currently leaning over to whisper something in Remus' ear. This was one of the only classes when the four of them were able to sit together. McGonagall had separated them all during third year, though Remus and Peter had managed to re-seat themselves together at the start of fourth year. When he had tried to sit beside Sirius, however, a frosty look and an unspoken threat of eons of detention had altered his course to the other side of the classroom. The charmed parchments they all had allowed them to communicate silently and unobtrusively, but it wasn't the same as being able to poke each other in the side, as Sirius was doing now.

"Don't tell me you've given up on Evans and set your nearsighted sights on me," he whispered. "I know I'm the best looking bloke in our year and all, but really, Prongs."

"Plank. I was just thinking. And besides, if I suddenly decided to turn poof, I'd hardly be lusting after your scrawny arse."

"What's wrong with my arse? I'll have you know I've got a brilliant arse."

James snorted loudly, earning him a glare from Evans two rows ahead. "Obviously there's more cheek to your arse than I was aware of, though I'd hardly call it brilliant." He paused. "When did Moony stop taking notes in this class?"

"Huh? He still takes notes. Binns' lectures are straight out of the textbook, though. And once you've read about one Urglot, you've read them all. It's only the dates that matter for exams anyway. Why?"

"Just noticed is all. I've been noticing a few things lately."

"Mr Porter," Professor Binns interrupted. "Did you or Mr Blank have something to add about Urglot the Homely?"

"No, sir," James replied. "I, er, I was just wondering if he was a relation of, umm, Urglot the Shrewd is all."

"Well spotted, Mr Pointer. I was just about to elaborate on how he was the son of Urglot the Shrewd's second cousin twice removed…"

As Binns droned on, Sirius gave James a pointed look. "Noticing what things?"

James shrugged, turning his head away and gazing down at the blank parchment in front of him. He realized he wasn't much up to discussing this right now. "Nothing. Forget it."

"That's crap. It's obviously something. I thought we told each other everything."

James turned to look him directly in the eye. "So did I." So much for not being in the mood.

Sirius blinked and narrowed his eyes, but James saw the imperceptible flinch. "What are you going on about?"

"I had to hear it from _Regulus_—overhear, though I'm sure he knew I was there and he said it for my benefit—that you've been disinherited. Or did your dear mother forget to tell you herself in her letter yesterday? 'Just more of her pureblood shite' you told me, then you went off last night, presumably getting off with another one of your usual nameless scrubbers, not getting back until nearly three. And when Remus hadn't come back from his bloody 'study date' by midnight, would you believe I actually wondered for a minute if the two of you were having one over on me and having it off together? You've obviously spent enough time since you-know-when sucking up to him as it is. Did you tell _him_ about the letter?"

His voice had risen beyond the level of stage whisper, and he saw Remus' hand freeze mid-sentence in his scribbling, knuckles clenched and paler than the parchment they were poised above as the ink pooled around the tip of his quill. Glancing up, he noticed that the other students in the class were staring at them while Binns continued to wax rhapsodic, albeit in his standard monotone, about the Rebellion of 1612.

Peter, roused from his slumber rubbed his eyes and blinked. "Wha? 'S'over yet?"

Sirius' tone was icy. "Any other personal information or speculation you'd care to disclose to your audience while you're at it?"

"Wha's going on?" Peter asked, noticing the scrutiny from his classmates and running a hand through his mussed hair.

"Not now, Wormtail," Sirius spat, his eyes still on James.

James continued to glare at Sirius, not looking away even as the signal for the end of classes sounded in the hallway.

It wasn't until Remus, having stood and gathered his things, turned and put a stiff hand on Sirius' shoulder that Sirius looked away. Even through his anger, James was surprised to note that Sirius didn't shrug the hand away. Instead he gave Remus a curt nod and stood up, grabbed his bag from the floor and swept out of the room, his robes swirling like a storm cloud in his wake.

Remus picked up the unopened bottle of ink, quill and blank parchment Sirius had left behind and stuffed it into his own bag. He didn't say a word, nor did he look up to meet James' gaze.

"Don't you start with me, either," James snapped. Remus didn't reply, but met his eyes with such a baleful glare that he felt a jolt of fear go through him. "Sod it!" He exclaimed, roughly gathering his own belongings and stalking out into the hall.

_Shit!_ Anger and adrenaline fuelled his steps. He knew he'd gone too far, or at least too far for public display, especially with his daft accusations about him and Remus being together, but he was pissed off and he knew he was in the right. He and Sirius shared everything; they never kept secrets! He'd almost hexed Regulus into a coma after that little show of his, but Evans had seen him pull his wand and threatened to go to McGonagall. He'd been so mesmerized by the way her eyes had practically shot sparks at him that he'd forgotten what he'd originally meant to be doing.

Four months ago, barely two days into the Christmas holidays, Sirius had turned up at his doorstep frozen, bruised, and dishevelled with hardly more than the tattered cloak on his back. James and his family had taken him in unconditionally. Of course they had. The two of them were brothers in every way but blood, and even that was questionable after they had performed that bizarre Muggle ceremony back in third year. They finished each other's sentences, ate off each other's plates, wanked together over monthly issues of Wizards Only – hell, they'd even slept in the same bed together on nights when they stayed up late, talking and plotting into the early morning hours.

Well, not so much anymore now that they were sixteen and the term 'sleeping together' took on different connotations. But the first few nights after Sirius had come to live with him, he'd slept in his bed with him. They hadn't talked much, but James had known that Sirius had needed him, or at least he hadn't wanted to sleep in a room by himself. James' parents had finally put an extra bed in James' room when they realized Sirius wasn't sleeping in the guest room.

But once they returned to Hogwarts after the holidays, Sirius had started spending more and more nights out. When James had asked where he'd been, Sirius had smirked, telling him that there were certain things best friends and brothers didn't always do together.

"But, Prongs, if you're willing to sacrifice your arse for my manly needs…" Then Sirius had puckered his lips, made exaggerated kissing noises at him and chased him around the dormitory. Randy bastard.

By day, he was still the same old Sirius, at least outwardly. They still joked around, pranked, ventured out occasionally at night—when Sirius wasn't out shagging some bint or other—to explore the castle and nick food from the kitchens, and thought up new ways to convince Evans to go out with him. He supposed he should have paid more attention to the things he hadn't been saying, forced Sirius to talk to him more, as barely two months later, on the night of the February full moon, all hell had broken loose.

It had been a closer call on more levels than he cared to admit, and Remus had nearly killed himself, the enraged and incited Moony nearly ripping himself to shreds. Madame Pomfrey, alerted by Dumbledore that something dreadful had happened, had descended upon the shack in the fashion of a she-wolf protecting her cub directly at moonset, and even then it had almost been too late. Remus had spent five full days in the infirmary afterwards. Sirius spent every one of those nights away from Gryffindor Tower and off on his own.

The first night, James had watched out the dormitory window as a large black shadow had howled at the waning moon and run off, hell bent, into the forest. He'd almost gone after him, but he knew his friend wouldn't have welcomed the intrusion. The next few nights, James had wordlessly acquiesced when Sirius had asked to borrow his cloak, an obvious sign that company was unwanted. Instead, he and Peter had spent those nights in front of the fireplace, numb with cold despite the cheerful flames, and alone despite the company of their ignorant, boisterous housemates, playing chess in an effort to distract each other from what they couldn't bring themselves to talk about.

He'd found out later that the town of Hogsmeade had also suffered that night. Desperate to stave off what they thought were evil spirits, some of the braver residents of Hogsmeade had gathered outside the Shrieking Shack and attempted to perform ancient, pagan exorcism and banishing spells. Remus hadn't come with them that weekend as he still had to catch up on the work he'd missed the week before, and it was probably a good thing, since the entire village was abuzz with gossip and rumours.

After listening to some of the more wild tales being told around the Three Broomsticks—of how old Gordie McManus had been chased up the high street and had nearly been possessed by 'one o' them shrieking devils'—the three of them had joined the crowd of students who walked up to the shack, and seen the crooked black outlines of the pentagrams that had been burned into the ground in the dooryard. Sirius had taken one look and had disappeared for the rest of the afternoon. They found him later back in the dormitory, helping Remus with Transfiguration.

That was another thing. He'd fully expected Remus to… to what? Disown Sirius? Hate him? Never speak to him again? Hex him into the next century or literally curse the ground he walked on? At the very least, he'd expected Remus to ignore and avoid him. Yet, inexplicably, the two seemed even closer than before. For those five days, and even afterward, Sirius had put on a show for the rest of the school, his haughty attitude and steely gaze never wavering even in front of Snape, though they all went out of their way to avoid the greasy wanker as much as possible for fear that any more incursions would probably get Sirius expelled.

That had been only temporary, as Snape, Mulciber, and Avery had soon taken every opportunity they could to hex them all into oblivion, not that James was complaining. Hexing and humiliating Snape was his second favourite pastime next to Quidditch.

But in unguarded moments, he could almost see the guilt and…something else he didn't recognize in Sirius' eyes. Was it pain? Remorse? Fear? Those types of emotions were alien to Sirius. Even that time his cousin Bellatrix and her Death Eater cronies had cornered them during one of their excursions into Muggle London; wandless and utterly defenceless, Sirius had sneered at them all, spouting vile epithets directed at them and their Dark Lord with a defiant, manic gleam in his eye that the following two days spent in St Mungo's hadn't dulled.

After the 'Incident', it was as if Sirius had finally broken inside, though he desperately tried to hide it, and it scared James more than he was willing to admit, even to himself.

He and Peter had fully expected life in the boy's fifth year dormitory to change irrevocably for the worse. Sirius had sported several noticeable scratches and welts, a broken finger, and walked with a slight limp after his run in the forest, and when he came to breakfast the second morning, there was a slightly purpling bruise on his jaw. When asked, he mumbled something about refusing to let Pomfrey heal him and left it at that.

He'd been booted off the Quidditch team and was given two full months worth of various detentions, but surprisingly, he hadn't been banned from Hogsmeade visits, and no points were lost (or awarded) to Gryffindor as a result of the Incident. Dumbledore had been exceedingly circumspect, and he wondered just how he'd bought Snape's silence. Not that Snape had been completely blameless.

They had all been aware that Snape had been sneaking about, following Remus and taunting him, curious about his monthly absences, and it was obvious that there had been a huge altercation between Sirius and Snape, but Sirius refused to tell him exactly what Snape had said to him. He knew Sirius had always been reckless and defiant, even something of a cruel bastard at times, but despite all of that, he was also the most loyal person James knew, and he would never have casually divulged Remus' secret without serious provocation.

The fact that Remus had not only forgiven Sirius for both betraying him and consequently nearly killing him, but during the past two months since the incident, had…

He stopped so suddenly that he nearly fell over backwards, his feet sliding in a patch of muddy grass. When had he walked outside? He'd been so lost in thought that he'd completely lost track of his surroundings. He was by the lake and dusk had already fallen, though the sky still held a peculiar glow, as if reluctant to bow to the coming night.

Sirius had always been protective of Remus—they all had, since discovering his furry little problem—but Sirius had been almost unnaturally so, particularly since they'd become Animagi. It was only natural that the wolf would take to a large dog more readily than a stag or a rat, but even post-transformation, Sirius would…. James shook his head remembering the scowl on Sirius' face last month when James had bent down to lift Remus and carry him up to the bedroom. Like a bloody mother protecting her cub, he was, which was somewhat understandable knowing Sirius as he did, but the notion that he had to protect Remus from James… That was utter rubbish. Hell, who would protect Remus from _Sirius_?

That was the thing. It was as if Remus didn't want to be protected from Sirius, no matter what he did.

He leaned against the trunk of a tree—the ground was too muddy and cold for sitting—and stared out over the lake, clenching his fists. Remus seemed to like the attention Sirius paid, not that James could blame him. He was the one who was always the main focus of that attention, and he revelled in it. Of course, Sirius had _his_ attention in return, and it had always been that way, since their very first day at school.

Remus and Peter were important to him, too. He loved all of his friends, but he and Sirius…belonged to each other, like two halves of a whole. It was so easy for him to imagine the two of them living together for the rest of their lives, but he supposed that would make it difficult to do things like marry and have children. Not that he was in any rush to do either of those things, but it still stood that any wife, particularly Evans, would probably not appreciate the notion of Sirius as part of the package. He shared everything with Sirius, but the one thing—the _only_ thing—he'd draw the line at was Evans. Of course Evans would rather be flayed alive than share anything with him anyway; it seemed to vex her that they had to share the same planet.

He shook his head and grunted, vaguely amused at how every thought somehow turned to Evans. Sirius was always amused by his persistence where she was concerned. He teased James relentlessly of course, but that was par for the course with them.

Sirius…

What the hell was crawling up his arse anyway? _I had to hear about it from bloody sodding Regulus!_ It felt like a betrayal. He gasped and nearly doubled over as the realisation washed over him. Sirius hadn't told him. Why the fuck not? He straightened up and turned, punching the tree trunk hard. The bark was rough and it bit at his knuckles, abrading the skin and drawing blood, but he didn't care. The pain in his fist was a welcome distraction from the gnawing in his gut. He punched the tree again.

_I bet he told Remus. I bet he told him what Snape said, too!_ He drew back his arm and punched the tree again. _Bloody Remus! Ever since that day… He must have told. Why the fuck else would he forgive Sirius so easily? He's not like me, doesn't know him the way I do._

He was angry, and probably irrationally so, but he didn't care. Since when had Remus become Sirius' confidant? That was _his_ place.

"Shit!"

He glanced down at his bruised and battered hand, and sucked the knuckle below his middle finger into his mouth. The wind had picked up, and he was freezing, dressed as he was in nothing but his school robes. Punching a tree wasn't making him feel any better, so he grit his teeth, shouldered his bag, and stalked off towards the castle.

*

"Slughorn's looking for you," Lily said, hands on hips, her eyes narrowed and voice smug. "You and Black think you're so brilliant you can skive off class whenever—"

"Bugger off, Evans," he said, barely sparing her a glance, and stomped off through the common room toward the stairs, ignoring the silence that followed him. He threw open the door, gratified by the loud bang of the knob as it crashed into the stone wall, and the even louder sound it made when he slammed it shut.

Peter was leaning over his trunk, and he stared at James, his mouth working as if he wanted to say something, but he wisely closed his trunk and muttered something under his breath as he climbed onto his bed and pulled the curtain.

Of course Sirius and Remus were nowhere to be found. Bastards.

He turned when the door opened behind him and Remus walked in, looking almost abashed.

"Wow. You really are in a strop. I can't believe you told Evans to bugger off."

"Fuck Evans, and fuck you, too, Lupin! Did he tell you then?"

Remus narrowed his eyes. "So it's 'Lupin' now."

"That _is_ your name. Answer my question—did he tell you?"

"Did who tell me what?" Remus said, and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Don't get smug with me; you know damn well what I mean! I don't know what you've done to him since…since _that day_, but—"

"What I've _done_ to him? What the hell are you talking about, _Potter_?"

Remus didn't often lose his temper, and James could see that he was pushing him into dangerous territory, but he didn't care. "He's _my_ best friend! Sod it, he's my bloody _brother_! _I'm_ the one who deserves to know what the fuck's going on in his life! Not you."

Remus stared at him. "Piss off, James. He's not your puppet."

"So he _did_ tell you! I knew it! You bastard! Who the fuck do you think you are—"

"You really don't want to finish that sentence," Sirius said from the doorway.

James stared daggers at him over Remus' shoulder, but Remus didn't bother to turn round. He continued to glare at James. "Actually, I'd love to see him make an even bigger tit out of himself."

"As entertaining as that would be," Sirius said through clenched teeth, "there's a crowd just below on the landing, hanging on his every word. I think he's said quite enough for today."

"Fuck them. Nosy gits," James grumbled.

"Moony…" Sirius said.

Remus sighed and turned around. The two of them exchanged a look which made James even more furious. "Yes, all right. C'mon Peter. We'll let Sirius beat the shit out of James. Don't get any blood on my bed."

"Fuck you, Lupin," James spat. "You should be more worried for your bloody boyfriend."

Remus stiffened, shot another look at Sirius, and walked wordlessly past him out the door.

Peter paused beside James and looked at him, raised his hand then dropped it. "Yeah. Um, later. Oi, Moony, wait up!" he said, and jogged to catch up.

Sirius closed the door behind them and cast an Imperturbable charm, still glaring at James. "What the fuck is _wrong_ with you?"

"Me? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Stop being such a baby, and for fuck's sake, leave Moony out of this."

"What are you, his mother? He really does have you by the balls," James sniggered, and then huffed as Sirius punched him in the stomach. "Bastard!" he yelled, and dove on top of Sirius, the two of them falling to the ground with a loud crash.

The next few minutes were a whirl of confusion as they punched and kicked each other, wands forgotten, all the while wrestling and trying to pin the other beneath them. His glasses were askew, his robes ripped at collar and sleeve, and his lip was puffed up three times its normal size, but he finally managed to pin Sirius' arms above his head. He whooped in triumph, only to collapse in a heap a moment later as Sirius' headbutted him in the face and he saw stars.

"Ow," he said, raising his hand to his nose once the blackness cleared a bit. "Fucking cheating wanker. I hate you."

"You started it," Sirius wheezed from beside him on the floor.

"You pu'ched be first, you arsehole."

"Yeah, well, you deserved it. What the fuck was all that shite about Remus?"

James sat up slowly and rested his forehead against his knee. He felt dizzy and a bit nauseated, and he tasted blood. He looked up and pushed his glasses back into place, wincing as they touched the bridge of his nose. "I ca't believe you broke by doze," he said, blinking to clear his vision.

"You should have ducked," Sirius said, sitting up just as slowly as James had, and searched around the floor for his wand. His left eye was puffy and he had a bruise on his cheek.

"Right. Ducked your big fat head. I'll rebebber that dext tibe."

Sirius chuckled. "Should leave you like that. Rebebber. Hey—say 'banana'!"

James clamped his lips together and raised two fingers.

Sirius raised his eyebrows and pouted. "C'mon…say it! For me?" he said, waggling his wand between thumb and forefinger.

"I hate you right dow."

Sirius grinned. "You love me, you stupid git. And need I remind you of the time you singed off my eyebrows and eyelashes, and nearly blinded me? Or the time you vanished my pubic hair?"

"You shrayk by dob!" James shouted, his hand going protectively to his groin in memory. It had been one of the most traumatic experiences of his life, and he was still convinced that it had left permanent damage.

"Oh, please. It was tiny to begin with. I didn't see a difference."

"Fucking tosser. Just fix by dose already."

"Spoilsport," Sirius said, shaking his head. "Fine. _Episkey._"

He winced as his nose became suddenly hot, then cold with a tingling numbness, and he resisted the urge to rub it. He wrinkled it tentatively as Sirius stowed his wand in his pocket, and it seemed to have healed.

"Banana," he said, and grunted in satisfaction.

"No point now, s'not funny anymore." Sirius drew his legs up to his chest and wrapped his hands around his knees. "So. You through being naffed off at me?"

James scowled and crossed his legs. "Dunno. You gonna tell me why you've been such an arse?"

"Because I didn't come running right away to you to tell you my parents have disinherited me?" Sirius said, and leant his forehead against his knees, muffling his voice. "I didn't wanna tell you."

James stared at him. "Why the hell not?"

"Wsbrsed."

"What?"

Sirius lifted his head, but wouldn't meet James' eyes. "I was embarrassed, you arse. There, I said it. You happy now?" He thumped his forehead on his knee again.

James opened his mouth to reply, and sat there, jaw gaping. Sirius' response had taken him completely by surprise. "I…what? This is about money?"

Sirius looked up at him then. "Well, what did you think it was about? You didn't really think I'd completely tossed you over for Moony, did you?"

"You told him," James grumbled, chewing on a fingernail.

"Well, he's poor, isn't he?"

"He's… You didn't tell me because I'm wealthy? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard! You know bloody well that what's mine is yours!"

Sirius shrugged. "I don't want charity."

"Charity!"

"Or pity."

"Tch," James said, rolling his eyes. "Thanks for thinking so highly of me. Arsehole."

"Shit," Sirius said, his voice quiet. "I'm poor. I'm really poor now. A fucking charity case." He grunted. "The Fall of the Heir and the Rise of the Spare. Catchy title for a book, eh? Probably all over the Prophet by now."

"You really _are_ an arse. What happened to selling the house to Muggles and giving all the family money to Squibs?"

Sirius' lips twitched.

"You never wanted it anyway."

"S'not the point," Sirius said.

"Then what's the point?"

"I had plenty of money when I said it, didn't I? I don't even know how to be poor. It doesn't suit me. How will I buy a motorcycle now? S'ppose I could always nick one. Poor people become criminals, don't they? I'd be a great criminal. No one would ever suspect someone as good looking as me would be a thief. I could make a fortune. Not that it's fair to take advantage of Muggles, but, you know, desperate times. I wouldn't discriminate, though. Steal from wizards, too."

James snorted. "Good to know you've got morals as well as priorities."

"Could muck about as a dog. People would take me home and feed me. After they were asleep…"

"You're not a lap dog, you arse. Nobody would take you home for fear you'd eat them."

"Hmmph. Padfoot is extremely loveable," Sirius said, looking affronted. He sighed. "I wouldn't really."

"What, eat them?"

"No, you twat."

James chuckled. "I know that, ya daft idiot. Besides, I already told you, what's mine is yours. Mum's already redecorated the bedroom you stayed in over Christmas. Dad moved the bath from down the hall so you have your own—put in a new door and everything."

Sirius looked startled.

James kicked at Sirius' ankle with the toe of his trainer. "You're really upset about this, aren't you."

Sirius sighed. "I…" He shook his head. "I never wanted any of it. I probably would've burnt the bloody house to the ground just to see the look on Mother's face. I don't need them, don't want them. It's just…" He sighed again. "Dunno. It's like Regulus got the better of me, the little tit. I knew when I left, and I'm _glad_ I left. It's just different when it's real, you know?"

"Doesn't matter. Fuck 'em all." James inched closer to Sirius until they were sitting side by side. "You have me. I'm the only family you need. And, well, okay, Moony and Wormtail, too, I s'ppose. Shit. I was a real arse to Moony, wasn't I?"

"You think? Eh, don't worry. He'll forgive you."

"I know. Good ol' Moony. So you're not shagging him, then."

Sirius rolled his eyes. "What's with you and shagging. I didn't know you wanted my cock that badly. Are _we_ shagging? "

"You wish," James said.

"Nah, your cock's too small"

"Fucker. My cock is perfect!"

"Perfectly small," Sirius mumbled.

"I heard that!" James smacked him in the head with the back of his hand, and yelped in pain. He'd forgotten about his earlier assault on the tree. He shook his hand and sucked on the large knuckle. "Stop smirking. It's barely half an inch smaller than yours. And that was last year. Bet mine's bigger now."

"Sitting next to me gives anyone a cockstand," Sirius said, and grinned.

James smacked him again, this time with his palm. "Bloody narcissist. Anyway, it's not charity. 'S'not pity either, even if you are a conceited tit. We're brothers, you and me. We share everything." He nudged Sirius with his shoulder.

Sirius looked sidelong at him. "You're not gonna hug me now, are you? Because, you know…"

James punched him in the arm. "Ow! Damn it. Fuck you, Black," he said, grinning despite the stinging in his hand.

Sirius laughed and wrapped his arm around James's neck in a headlock. "You should be so lucky."

**II. Sixth Year**

He heard the soft swish of bed curtains and lay still in his bed, listening to the hushed whispers and footsteps, the creak of the hinges of Sirius' trunk and the rustle of paper unfolding, followed a moment later by the muffled click of the door closing. He counted to twenty and reached for his wand and glasses on the night table, uttering a soft _Lumos_, and blinking in the sudden light.

They had the map, so he could not follow, and he exhaled in frustration. Whose stupid idea had it been to enchant it with identity and location charms anyway? His cloak was useless, and he scowled at the injustice of their cleverness coming back to bite him in the arse.

After their big row last term, things had quickly returned to normal, but he hadn't been able to shake the feeling that Sirius was still holding out on him. He'd stopped being a stubborn arse about the money—mostly—and as far as James could tell, he hadn't been sneaking off to snog Moony in any broom cupboards.

They'd got top marks on their O.W.L.s as expected, and had a grand summer. They'd mucked about Godric's Hollow, Remus and Peter had visited and they'd gone to see some Quidditch matches, and he and Sirius spent two weeks at the shore, pulling a few Muggle birds and sneaking out to the pub.

If Sirius had seemed less than enthusiastic at times, well, James had put it off to his usual brooding and stubbornness. He'd sent a lot of owls to a mysterious correspondent and when pressed—James had teased him to distraction about a secret girlfriend since Sirius never showed him the letters—reluctantly confessed that he'd been writing to his cousin Andromeda. The letters seemed to cheer him when he was feeling particularly sulky, so James let Sirius' strange new habit pass and said nothing more on the subject, out loud at any rate.

Now that they were back at school again, everything seemed to be business as usual, yet he could tell that something was still…off. At least he seemed to be over his obsessive letter-writing phase.

Then there was Remus. He'd apologized, sort of, and Remus had understood anyway, stand up bloke that he was. He'd got a bit annoyed at them for nearly pantsing Snivellus the day of the Defence O.W.L. but that was nothing new, really. Not that Remus liked Snape, but after the Incident, he seemed to feel even more uncomfortable, almost awkward when it came to Snape.

James couldn't really blame him. He knew it was because Snape looked at Remus with even more loathing and revulsion than he had before, for obvious reasons, and Remus worried that Snape wouldn't keep to the promise he made to Dumbledore. James didn't worry. He and Sirius had been practicing, and were more than willing to Transfigure Snivellus and the whole Board of Governors into sea slugs. They'd have to catch them before they could throw any of them in Azkaban, and sea slugs didn't get around much.

Fortunately, Remus' uneasiness didn't extend to Snape's friends. They'd had a grand confrontation the day of the leaving feast, and Remus had had no qualms about aiming a brilliant Freezing Hex at Avery.

Sometimes he'd catch Remus looking at Sirius with an expression that he couldn't quite name, but as soon as he noticed James watching, he'd turn away, almost as if he were angry at the both of them. And really, what the hell was that about anyway? There had been a few instances when he'd walked into the dormitory, and the two of them had been talking quietly, heads bent close, but the moment James entered, Sirius would jump up with a grin, and they'd be back to plotting and executing their usual mischief.

Only here he was, alone with Wormtail who was snoring softly behind his own bed curtains, while Sirius and Remus were off somewhere together. In secret. In the middle of the night. And he hadn't been invited. And worse, he had no way to follow them.

He should be sleeping; Quidditch in the morning against Ravenclaw—first match of the year, and he was Captain. He was far too confident to worry about losing, confident in himself, and in his team. They were the defending champions, and only one new player this year, Francie Martin, a fourth year Chaser who was both very promising and rather fit with legs nearly up to her tits, and they weren't bad either. He'd not noticed her before, what with her school robes hiding those particular attributes, and the fact that he usually only had eyes for Evans, but Evans still wouldn't speak to him, and he was tiring of the self-imposed celibacy he'd decided on as a tactic for Plan Number Ninety-one back in late August.

"Fuck," he muttered, and threw the blankets off, sliding out of bed and stomping off to the loo. The excitement and anticipation that had kept him awake was now twisting into anger and, dare he say it, jealousy. _What the hell is he doing with Moony that he can't—oh shit, not again._ He touched his nose. _Right. Stop being a jealous, suspicious git, Potter._

A shaft of moonlight reflected off the bathroom mirror, casting eerie shadows on the wall, and he stepped away from the sink, water dripping unceremoniously from the tip of his nose, and glanced outside. The moon was waxing near full—would be full in two nights' time—and he felt a pang of anticipation for this month's adventure. He smiled despite himself, his hand involuntarily stroking his head as if feeling for invisible antlers.

A sudden movement below caught his eye, and he watched as two dark figures ran from the shadows of the castle, across the frost-covered grass toward the stark figure of the Whomping Willow, the last vestiges of its leaves clinging helplessly to the gently-swaying branches. He wiped his dripping nose with the back of his hand and pressed it against the chilly glass. It had to be them. The Willow thrashed its branches in agitation, losing more leaves in the fray, and then suddenly froze in mid-thrash.

_The shack? What the—? _If they finished off the secret stash of Firewhisky and Auntie Sylvie's rhubarb gin without him, he was going to murder them. Quidditch or no, why would they go off together drinking without him? And without Peter? How many other times had they slipped off without him? He felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cold autumn air.

_No… I'd have known. He wouldn't… I was _kidding_ about the snogging in broom cupboards. Shit. Bugger this!_

He stalked back to his bed, pulled jeans and a wool jumper over his pyjamas, stuck his wand in his back pocket and grabbed the cloak from his trunk. He didn't care if they saw him coming. Serve them right. He stuffed his feet into his trainers and paused halfway to the door. He should wake Peter, he knew, but he was in a hurry. He shrugged and threw the cloak over his head. He'd apologize in the morning, if necessary. Peter always forgave him anyway.

*

He paused by the entrance to the shack, brushing dirt off his jeans and stowing his wand in his back pocket, and pulled his cloak from under his sweater, shaking it out and pulling it over himself. The shack was far too dark and quiet, and he shimmied through the doorway, tiptoeing, wary and expecting to be ambushed any minute. Thin beams of moonlight shone through the small cracks in the boarded windows, lending an eerie blue glow and illuminating swirls of dust motes, like swarms of insects. A board creaked overhead, and he glanced up sharply. _Aha!_

He crept down the dark hallway toward the stairs, feeling his way along the wall in lieu of announcing his presence with unnecessary wandlight. The stairs took an age to climb, try as he did to step cautiously to avoid the spots that creaked and groaned. He winced when one board let out a long sigh and stood frozen, heart beating rapidly in his chest, but no one appeared on the landing above.

A warm, yellow-orange light beckoned from the door of the large bedroom which was standing half-open, and he heard the crackle and pop of a fire burning in the grate, intermingling with the occasional quiet murmurs of conversation. He stepped lightly towards the door, prepared to swing it fully open and take them by surprise, and froze in his tracks.

"_Moony…_"

He inched his way to the door, convinced that all of Hogsmeade could hear how loudly his pulse was throbbing in his own ears, and peered inside.

Sirius and Remus were kneeling on the bed across from each other, completely naked, their pale skin alternately glowing and flickering with shadows from the light of the fire, and they were kissing.

James stepped back, took a deep breath and blinked, reaching up to touch his glasses. _It's a charm,_ he thought. _They saw me coming, and they're having one over on me._

He stepped forward again, and peered into the room. They were still kissing, Remus with his arms around Sirius' waist, hands wandering in places that shocked even James' sensibilities, and one or both of them groaning softly.

Shit—they weren't having one over, they were having one _off_!

Sirius had his hand against the side of Remus' face, thumb rubbing gentle circles on his cheek, and fingers burrowing into his hair in a gesture so tender that James was completely taken aback.

He quickly raised his hand to his mouth to cover a gasp. Merlin's balls! They were really kissing! Really, _really_ kissing! Full out snogging with tongues and everything! Like with girls! He knew he was gaping like a fish, and his eyes were practically bulging out of his skull, but he couldn't look away. He took another step forward and rested his hand against the door frame, neck craning around the door to get a better view.

They'd inched even closer, chests and cocks pressed together—oh god!—and _still_ snogging. _Bloody hell. Don't they ever breathe?_ His own skin felt tight all over. He'd shagged girls before, and he was pretty sure Sirius had, too, unless…

_Last year, too? _All those nights they were both out, Remus supposedly studying at the library or doing prefect-y things. The looks, the way Remus had forgiven him so easily… No, Sirius had definitely shagged Olivia Snodgrass last term. And the Muggles over the summer, he—

Wait, had he? Thinking back, James had always been too preoccupied to really pay much attention at all. He'd held hands with that bird Helen, but had they actually messed about? Sirius had just smirked and said little, while James had been too caught up in describing his own exploits.

Sirius had pressed Remus back against the mattress, straddling his hips. He was kissing Remus' neck, and slowing moving lower. James shifted his hips as Remus gasped loudly, fingers buried in Sirius' hair, and his heels digging into the mattress. Sirius was doing something on his chest, and obviously Remus was enjoying it. His jeans felt suddenly tight, and he wriggled a bit, cursing at the fact that he'd put his jeans on over his pyjamas. _Stupid denim_ he grumbled silently in annoyance, twisting at the waistband.

He looked up and nearly gasped aloud as Sirius had moved again, and was now licking his way down Remus' stomach.

_No. He wouldn't. He couldn't. He's not—Oh!_

James stumbled back and leant heavily against the wall, his breathing as rapid as his pulse.

_Okay, calm down. Breathe. You're just a little surprised. It's nothing you haven't seen before. Right. Only it was _your_ cock and a bloody _girl's_ mouth._ He shook his head and blinked, rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand. He felt light-headed, and slightly sick.

_Okay. So Sirius and Remus are a couple of shirt-lifters. Right. Not a big deal. Okay, so maybe it's a bit of a deal. Shit! C'mon, Potter, get a grip. Well, _they_ certainly have a grip. Right. Shut up. Think!_

He wasn't that big of an idiot to be shocked at the notion of two men having sex together. He'd seen blokes holding hands before, heard some rather naughty rumours about a few of their schoolmates, and sure, he'd made a few cracks about it—oh, shit! To Sirius _and_ Remus. And Peter. No wonder they didn't tell him. So many things that had happened over the past year suddenly become starkly clear, and he winced at his thoughtlessness. He felt like a massive tit. Well, how the hell was he supposed to know? More bloody fucking secrets!

He wanted to feel angry, but all he could think of was the way Sirius' hand had been so gentle against Remus' cheek; the same way he yearned to touch Lily. He could hear the two of them, soft cries and whispers, gasps and moans, a counterpoint to the wind whistling through the cracks in the walls, the crackle of the fire and creak of the old house on its shaky foundation.

Unbidden, he stepped to the door and once again peered inside the bedroom. Remus was on top now, hips thrusting in a gentle rhythm; Sirius's legs were wrapped around his waist, his head thrown back against the pillow, hand around his cock, slowly stroking himself, and Remus was bent over him, looking down at his face.

"Sirius, oh god," Remus said, his voice breathy and slightly hoarse.

Sirius reached up a hand and pulled Remus down for a kiss. Remus faltered for a moment, losing his rhythm, then steadied himself as he broke the kiss.

"C'mon, Moony. Yeah, that's it, don't stop, don't fucking stop, so good, so fucking beautiful…"

James watched his two best friends for a moment longer, then stepped away from the door, turned and descended the stairs in a sort of daze. He stumbled on the bottom step in the dark, but caught himself on the cracked banister before he fell. He shuffled down the dark hallway and back out into the secret passage.

He should be disgusted. Embarrassed. Mortified, even. He should be laughing, making some stupid crack about Sirius taking it up the arse, or the two of them fawning all over each other like a couple of soppy girls, but all he could see was the way they had looked at each other, the way they kissed.

He'd had it in his head that men would be rough and…what? Manly or some stupid shit with each other. Harsh and grabby and desperate to get off. He supposed they did that, too, but what he had seen wasn't two blokes getting off. The sodding, sneaking, perverted bastards had been making fucking _love_ to each other.

It unnerved him. That was _Sirius_. Stupid, arrogant, ruthless, clever fucking Sirius! And Remus had been on top! He really did take it up the arse. Oh, the irony! Or maybe not so much. Moony was no girl. Quite the sneaky, underhanded bastard in his own right. And Sirius _was_ the pretty one.

He sighed, and squatted down against the wall. His back hurt from bending over nearly double in the low passageway. _Right. Remus and Sirius. A couple. In bloody fucking lovey dovey soppy girly love. With each other. _

He felt vaguely uncomfortable, thinking about all the times they'd been undressed in front of each other without a care or thought, but he supposed he would cope. He'd certainly be keeping an eye out for either of them checking him out. _Did they…?_ Hmm, he probably shouldn't go there.

He sighed again, bit at his fingernail, and spat. He loved Sirius, granted not in the same way Moony loved him… He made a feigned gagging noise and laughed aloud. Bloody girls, the both of them. He would tease Sirius something fierce and he grinned at the prospect of revenge. Now it would be _his_ turn, and he'd make that fucker say more than 'banana'. He'd have to think up a whole list of goodies. Oh, revenge was sweet, indeed.

It was going to take some getting used to, he knew, and a part of him was jealous as all fuck, wondering why Remus and not him, ignoring the fact that he wasn't the least bit attracted to blokes, and his uneasiness moments earlier at the notion of either of them looking at him _that_ way. Still, he had a much nicer arse than Moony!

It wasn't a problem, or it wouldn't be once he got used to the idea of it. Sirius and Remus. Padfoot and Moony. He thought of the way the wolf and dog played on full moon nights, and grunted. He could handle Sirius and Remus getting off, probably, though he'd seen enough to last him a lifetime, thank you very much, but if Padfoot and Moony ever started humping each other, well, that's definitely where he drew the line!

He wondered what they were doing right now, and squirmed, sitting down on his arse, unmindful of the dirt floor. It was probably best that he stopped thinking about them as, unfortunately, his discomfort at the moment was even more pronounced than he was prepared to admit.

_Shit. I hate them both so much,_ he thought as he unbuttoned his jeans and reached inside the waistband of his pyjamas to take care of his _other_ rather pressing problem.

_fin_


End file.
